Please Tell Me...

Please tell me…

I’m not the only adult who has to remove toy pirate ships, alligators, and dinosaurs from the bathtub before you get in.  (Please also tell me that I’m not the only one who occasionally finds themselves playing with the toys before you take them out. After all, I needed to prove that the T-Rex could do a backwards somersault off of the ship’s tiny plank.)

Please tell me…

My mother isn’t the only mother who laid down plastic bags and towels in her car whenever her daughter sat in the passenger’s seat of her car in her third trimester because she didn’t want to wash her seats if  her daughter's water happened to break while traveling together.  (For real? If my water broke on your seat, I would gift you a car detailing from Groupon.)

Please tell me….

I’m not the only one who takes off their Fitbit because it makes you feel slightly sloth-like and I would rather be oblivious to my lack of exercising than feel shame in regards to it. (Speaking of sloths, please tell me I’m not the only one whose Amazon Prime account recommends sloth merchandise for you.)

Please tell me…

I’m not the only one who has had to lick Cheetos cheese off of my fingers before my spouse could hold my hand. 

Please tell me…

I’m not the only one who woke up by being serenaded.  Serenaded by my preschooler singing, “I just farted and it kinda smells like fish sticks.”  Not necessarily the tune I want to wake up to. But I guess, beggars can’t be choosers.